This was the early 90s. In grades 1 through 4 I attended a large school. Large as in «the school is several city blocks combined into one» large. Large as in «the school messes up with the street-naming scheme because it breaks up the grid-like pattern» large. By my estimation, there were 1,500 students on the morning schedule (grades 1–9) and about 300 in the afternoon schedule (grades 10–12). For the sake of simplicity, let’s imagine it’s a large city block with sides facing each of the cardinal directions.
Most of the northern side was occupied by Field 2, a 400-meter running track enclosing a soccer field. The track itself was surrounded by trees, about 5 meters in all sides. I hesitate to say they were «gardens» of any sort because the trees hadn’t been planted at all, they were the remains of the forest that was before and hadn’t been moved in the school’s 125-year life. Thus, when I mention trees or «forests», picture exactly that: patches of land looking like a forest now engulfed by man-made structures.
To the west there was Field 1, a larger field loosely divided into three soccer fields1 by virtue of having three pairs of metal goals. This field wasn’t marked and was locked most days, mostly because it was rented for local sports events on weekends and had to be kept pristine.
To the east there was Field 3, the poorest-looking of the trio and the most sought-after by the upper classes2 because it’s the one where they could blow off steam in peace. They didn’t have to be careful of people walking close or hitting kids with a loose ball. Field 3 was for grades 6–9 mostly; maybe grade 5 if you’re cool or a good enough player.
Most of the administrative buildings, cafeteria, library and parking were to the south. We never went there. The classroom buildings occupied a central position: one side for the morning schedule, the other for the afternoon.
In between these there were, as I mentioned, patches of forest, left behind by the school’s founders more than a century ago. Back then, it was a military academy—obviously it was only for men—and aimed to instill military discipline, lifestyle and conduct to all its students. These patches, according to the school’s own history books, were a perfect solution to training many survival skills while also keeping students in check and in a controlled environment. So they wrote in the school’s code that utmost respect for nature should be one of the core values of students, and keeping the forest alive and well was our responsibility. That was one of the few things that hadn’t changed in 125 years.
Luisa and I knew each other since kinder. On our first day at the new school we wandered around the edges of the forest, trying to not lose sight of the main building. We found a particularly twisted tree, noticeably lighter in color, bearing a crescent moon shape on it3 and for some reason scared us. That was the last day we hung out until after the Winter break.
The next year I returned there with Guillermo and Pablo. The moon shape was still there and this time we were fascinated. This time, being more aware of the new microcosmos surrounding us, we decided that it was an excellent meeting point for us.
And every group of friends needed some meeting point, or attach themselves to another social group. Of course, many gravitated towards the soccer fields and basketball courts, forging social ties through sweat and shared glory. The grounds between the man building and Field 2 were for everyone playing marbles. The playground with monkey bars, seesaw, slide and other things was loud. The benches around the main building were dedicated exclusively to everyone playing or trading Tazos.
And the most obvious and/or best spaces for were already taken. In the space under the main building stairs there was always a teacher posted to watch over the main building’s basketball courts. Over by the drinking fountain there was a group of 4th graders. The benches by the aviary were taken by the highest grades because their classrooms were closest. Everything and everyone inside the library building had to be in complete silence. The running track was a popular choice to walk and talk, but it had the constant threat of getting a soccer ball to the head.
We’d heard of the now infamous «Night of Sorrows» in History, and the «Tree of the Night of Sorrows», which was a cool name. We decide to put a spin on it and named this tree the «Hidden Tree of the Half-moon». It was conveniently close to the main building and protected from stray balls from both Field 2 and Field 3. We decided it would be our spot whenever we wanted to meet if we hadn’t something else to do.4
At some point in 3rd grade, José Luis invited us all to his house for his birthday. This was the first party that I’d attend «alone» (id est, the only adults present would be José Luis’ parents) and that made us feel a bit older than we were. The fated Friday came and just before classes ended, Father Braulio came to our classroom and asked the teacher for a word in private. Then I was summoned outside with them.
José Luis’ mom had called ahead saying that she’d had an unexpected emergency to attend and so his dad would pick us up, but an hour after classes ended. So we all had to gather at Father Braulio’s office to wait for him (since he was one of the few staff whose office hours extended into the night, being our Chaplain and the only of the priests that had no classes to teach in the afternoon).
We all liked Father Braulio. Maybe that’s why he was always busy: he was a good man, a good teacher and a good priest. In our school, he was the only priest to perform Mass, one of only two Confessors and Chaplain to both our school and the Nuns’ school down the street. Thus, going to his office was a rare treat (except of course for people who ran into trouble often, but that’s another story).
His office was closer to what you’d expect of an academic and not a priest. Of course, he had his tools of the trade in a shelf by the door, but the rest was much like any college professor: books lining up the walls, a never-decreasing stack of papers to be graded and two dedicated incoming and outgoing mail sorters—after all, the internet was still only a novelty and we had only two internet-enabled computers on campus, both in the library. And toys. What set him apart from everyone else was the numerous toys for perusal of his visitors. His office was where I saw a Rubik’s Cube the first time. Several oil and water «timers», a novelty dancing Coke can, a Bop-It Extreme 2, and a Sega Mega Drive.
He usually asked us to leave our stuff by the door and take a seat before asking him for any toy, but this time someone called him just as we were entering. In those few seconds we saw it: a skull-like thing next to his phone. It was different to everything else in that room, so we knew we were not supposed to see it. Thus, we wanted it.
Father Braulio returned and Pablo, his mouth faster than his brain, immediately asked what it was. Father Braulio quickly turned to see what it was and reached for it. «Hmmm… it’s… a souvenir from a museum in the USA. A friend gave it to me last week. It’s quite fragile, let me put it up here.» And so it was out of our reach.
We thought nothing more of it and proceeded to try and solve the cube, and time flew. José Luis’ dad came for us and on we went, off to an afternoon of salty-greasy food and Mario Kart racing.
Later, when the initial round of races was over, José Luis went away and returned with a book. «Dad keeps this on his desk at all times. I’ve seen the skull that Father Braulio had in here». I’d seen something like that before, it was an issue of «Ripley’s Believe It or Not!»; my uncle had a stack of them at his house. I’d once been asked not to read them because they were not for kids.5 Now I had one within reach, with no adults to stop us.
We set it on the floor and started turning the pages. After a few, we saw an illustration of a man-goat,6 holding a skull in one hand and a jewel in the other, crowned with a crescent moon-shaped toque. The text alluded to some person who was thought to be the Antichrist in his community, never attending Mass. It said that one day the wind picked up his hat and in a hurry to catch it, he fell exactly where the church’s roof cross cast its shadow. The man couldn’t move from the place and died then and there, apparently his body disappeared.
We all wondered if this had anything to do with the skull in Father Braulio’s office. Of course, we would never admit to each other, but we were terrified and wanted nothing more than to forget all about the man, the scary man-goat and the devil incarnate. On the surface, we spoke if we should investigate further.
The text mentioned that the three elements—moon, skull and jewel—were meant to be together to establish some sort of equilibrium, opposite to the many triads occurring in Christianity. Father Braulio had one and the tree—our Tree—had another. It was obvious that we should provide the third.
Fast forward to next week, we convened once more at the Tree. We decided to cooperate and each would help with 500 pesos (the «Old» ones). We thought of putting them in the tree’s fork, but quickly decided against it: if the money was easily found, someone would take it and the whole thing would be for naught. No, the money had to be well hidden. Merely lifting a stone wouldn’t be enough.
Luckily for us, we dug and found that one of the roots was thinner than it looked and curled in an inverted «U» shape before digging straight down the ground. The empty space inside the «U» could be easily covered with dirt and the root above would look like a normal one. No one would think of digging under a root, right?
We dug, we hid the money and vowed to never return to the tree. That summer I would move with my family to a new town and never return to the school until last November.
We went to see a production of «Les Mis», put together by the school’s current students and a few alumni. I saw Pablo and who I assume were his wife and children. More than two decades of not seeing each other and he still had the same face. Of course, I didn’t talk to him; time-distance is a real thing and the social restrictions imposed by the COVID pandemic were only starting to lift. There was no need to interact with anyone outside the familial circle.
But once we were out at the end of the show, I saw him heading not to the parking lot, but into the old «forest» and the memories came rushing in. I was waiting for my family to come out of the bathroom, so I waited. A minute later he returned and I snuck out to confirm my suspicions.
Our Tree was indeed still there, just as I remembered it. I took out a small pen and started digging. A single 100 pesos bill was all I found. Whoever made the change in all these years, at least they thought of having some profit without leaving the stash empty.
I wonder what was of Father Braulio. Pablo’s mouth was always faster than his brain.
I’m sure none of these fields were regulation size, but as anyone outside of the USA can attest, soccer is indeed one of the world’s favorite sports and children all around the world play it if there’s a ball and something even vaguely close to a field with defined or definable goals.
Of course, in large schools like this the social hierarchy is defined at two different levels: on one level there’s grown-ups at the top and students at the bottom. The second level exists within the students and is defined mostly by age and grade, so upperclassmen/women are indeed those in higher grades, the older kids, the «more mature ones».
Today, my hypothesis is that someone cut off a branch and the tree kept growing irregularly over the cut, giving it the characteristic shape. See: edaphoecotropism.
I had choir practice on Wednesdays, Pablo had basketball practice on Thursdays, both Guillermo and Pablo had catechesis on Fridays. I didn’t attend catechesis because I had my first communion by age 3.
Nowadays, I don’t recommend it to kids because it’s mostly fake and the worst kind of fake: the one that is true enough to make money out of people.
Today I recognize it as Baphomet.
I promise not all of this is a lie written for LieQuest 2022. Not all of this is true as well.
The thing I’m most interested in finding whether you can figure what the lie—or lies—are.